


Love is a Negotiation

by jonius_belonius (Joni_Beloni)



Series: Road to Perdition [3]
Category: Suits (TV)
Genre: Asshole Harvey, Drama, Face Slapping, Genital Piercing, Inappropriate Behavior, M/M, Nipple Piercing, S1-ish, Smut, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-02
Updated: 2016-10-03
Packaged: 2018-08-19 05:30:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 13,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8191964
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Joni_Beloni/pseuds/jonius_belonius
Summary: Mike does everything he can think of to get Harvey interested in him.  In return, Harvey pushes him to do things he never thought he would.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skyenapped](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skyenapped/gifts).



> This is the result of a prompt from skyenapped, who asked for unrequited love (on Mike's side), and piercings. Not sure I gave you what you asked for, but I gave it a shot.
> 
> Harvey is not very nice in this story, just sayin' ...

****

Mike shifted the strap of his duffel bag, which had been digging into his shoulder for the entire four block trudge from the subway to Harvey’s building.

"They're painting my apartment," he explained again for what felt like the hundredth time.  "It would just be for a few nights."

This had seemed like the ideal excuse to insinuate his way into Harvey’s condo, which he imagined would provide him with countless opportunities to put the moves on the man he had lusted over since the first instant he’d laid eyes on him.

He’d stupidly believed that universal rules of etiquette required Harvey to offer him his hospitality – or at a minimum, his couch, but Harvey lived by his own set of rules, which Mike should have remembered, what with his perfect memory.

“Do you need the name of a hotel?” asked Harvey.  “I'm guessing you’ve heard of a little thing called Google?”  He blocked Mike’s forward movement with his body, and one hand braced against the door jamb.

“That’s just it.  I don’t stay in hotels.  Like … ever.  Me and my Grammy stayed in one for a week after my parents died, and well, it’s just too painful.  You can understand that, right?”  It was all a lie, but he was desperate to get inside, and he wasn’t above exploiting his childhood tragedy to do it.

“What I understand is that first off, you’re ruining my evening, and secondly, this conversation is boring me.”  Harvey attempted to close the door, but Mike’s sneakered foot shot forward to keep it wedged open.

“Please, Harvey.”

Through the four-inch wide opening, Harvey kicked at Mike’s foot, trying to dislodge it, but he refused to give up any of his hard earned territorial gains. 

“Just one night,” Mike pleaded.  “I’m a great houseguest.  I’ll cook you breakfast."  Harvey kicked harder.  "Wait!  I'll ... I’ll do … _things._ ”

The opening widened to six inches.  “Things?  What things?  Explain yourself.”

Mike’s bravado disintegrated.  “You know.  The usual things … that people do.  Er, in a casual, adult relationship.”  He pushed his face right up to the opening and looked Harvey in the eyes.  “Do I have to spell it out for you?”

Harvey pulled the door all the way open and leaned against the side, eying Mike up and down.  “No, I don’t suppose you do.”  Seeming to come to a decision, he moved out of the way and gestured with his arm, indicating that Mike should enter. 

Mike all but leapt across the threshold and dropped his duffel bag in the entryway.  Harvey strolled past him into the kitchen, where he fixed two glasses of scotch.  Returning, he handed one to Mike and continued to scrutinize him as they both drank, a faint smile playing over his lips.

“I knew it,” said Harvey finally.

“Knew what?”

“Oh, don’t go shy on me now, kid.”

“I’m not.  I mean, I won’t.  Do I seem like a shy person to you?”

“That wouldn’t be the first adjective I’d use to describe you, no.”  His mouth quirked up in a half-smile.  “Tell you what.  I'll let you spend the night – one night only – and I won’t even make you sleep on the couch.”

“You mean … ?”

“I mean, drink your scotch.  I’m not finished yet.  One night in my bed, but I need your promise that you won’t make anything more out of this than what it is.”

Mike suspected he shouldn’t have to ask, but he did anyway, because it never hurt to be sure.  “What is it?”

Harvey’s eyes darkened as he regarded Mike over the rim of his glass.  “You started this, not me.  But if you need me to say it out loud, I will.  It’s sex.  Period.  Full stop.”  He drank, and licked his smirking lips.  “Maybe just tell yourself we’re temporarily expanding your job description.”

“Will I get a salary increase commensurate with – ”

“No.”  Harvey’s smirk widened into a smug grin. “What you will get is a bonus.  Me.”

Mike had a second to wonder why he had ever thought that this would go any differently between them than any of their other interactions, and then Harvey closed the distance between them and kissed Mike, so thoroughly, and for such a long time, that he went light-headed and nearly spilled his drink onto Harvey’s gleaming floor.  He yanked his mouth away and turned his head to the side, gulping air into his oxygen-starved lungs. 

Cool and unruffled, Harvey took another sip of scotch.  “I don’t intend to go easy on you.”  A waiting pause.  “Still interested?”

Scotch burned the back of Mike’s throat, and he coughed.  If Harvey was trying to scare him off, it wasn’t going to work.  “Since when have you ever gone easy on me?”  He pulled himself together, striving to appear every bit as composed as Harvey.  In truth, his heart was pounding out a panicked, excited rhythm, and his jeans were already uncomfortably tight.  “I mean, we might as well get to it.  What else is there to do on a Sunday night?”

Shaking his head and clicking his tongue, Harvey communicated his scorn.  “So, so many things.  But …”   A fatalistic shrug.  “I suppose this will suffice.”  He nodded his head toward the open door of the bedroom.  “Take your bag in there and get undressed.  Don't forget to hang up your suit for tomorrow.  I’ve got a few things to finish up out here, and then I’ll join you.”  He waited until Mike had hurried past him before adding, “Fall asleep, and I’m definitely kicking you out.  And no snooping.”

******

Like Mike would fall asleep. 

Or not snoop. 

After he undressed, he prowled around Harvey's bedroom, examining the pictures on the wall, admiring the fancy tie rack in his closet, lifting his expensive cologne and inhaling the familiar scent.  He accidentally nudged a spot on the wall across from the bed and jumped back in surprise when it released a door to the hidden cabinet holding Harvey's television.  The shelf underneath held a neatly stacked collection of porn.

Mike glanced at the doorway to make sure Harvey couldn't see him, and perused the collection, snorting in amusement at some of the ridiculous titles.  He picked up one and stared at the cover, not just because of the name -- _Release the Cocken_ \-- which was eye-catching enough, but for the blurry close-up, probably a screen grab from the DVD, of a large, erect, cut cock with a Prince Albert piercing at the tip.

His own junk felt as if it wanted to crawl up inside of him and hide.  He was intrigued in spite of himself, and spent a couple of minutes imagining precisely how much the process might hurt.  With a shudder, he placed the DVD back on the pile, and straightened the edges back to something approximating Harvey's _Sleeping with the Enemy_ perfection.

Climbing onto Harvey's bed, he snuggled in, tucking the comforter underneath his armpits, and spared a moment to congratulate himself.  This was going better than he’d dared to hope.  Every so often, he heard the sounds of Harvey moving around in the other room.  Mike hadn’t thought to ask him what he’d been doing when he arrived.  If it was work stuff, he could have offered to give him a hand, pitching in to make it go faster.  No, he decided.  If Harvey had wanted his help, he would not have hesitated to ask for it – or demand it.

Mike spent his time staring around Harvey’s bedroom, continuing to soak in every detail.  Predictably, the décor in here followed the modern, right-angled, minimalist theme of his living room and kitchen, with the addition of soft blues and greys in the comforter and pillowcases.  The bed frame was made of sturdy, brushed steel, with headboard and footboard designed with parallel horizontal bars of descending length.  As he imagined all of the interesting things that could be attached to those bars, Mike reached under the covers and touched himself. 

After several minutes of furtive masturbation, he had to stop.  Shooting too soon was no way to impress a man like Harvey.  He’d stipulated that this was a one-time thing, but Mike chose to consider it an audition.  He contemplated the things he might do to win himself the job, but got himself so worked up that he had to picture Louis, naked, coated in mud and drinking a pruney, to calm himself down.  He was more successful then he’d intended, and by the time Harvey finally strolled through the doorway, Mike had wilted completely.

Harvey paused and just stared at Mike, as if he'd forgotten he was here.  Then, “Blankets off,” he murmured.

Thankfully, his soft tone of command caused Mike’s cock to stir back to life.  He threw the covers aside, and spent several awkward moments figuring out where to put his arms and legs.  He finally bent one knee, positioned one arm behind his head, and used his other hand to fondle his cock. 

“I like it,” said Harvey, pulling his Henley over his head and tossing it aside.  “Slutty naked boys in my bed are about my favorite thing in the world.”

Mike’s mouth went dry.  He laughed nervously. 

Harvey stepped out of his pants and stood by the bed wearing only black briefs.  Tight, black briefs, Mike noted, and hoped he wasn’t drooling.  He could clearly see the outline of Harvey’s cock.

“You’re, um …” said Mike.

“Um?”  An amused eyebrow lift.

“You keep yourself in good shape,” he finished weakly.

“A healthy physique is one's best accessory.”

“Is that another Harveyism?”

“Another what?”

“You know.  Your sayings?  Like, press until it hurts.  Or play the man.  Or – ”

“I’m bored.”

“Um.”

“You have two minutes to convince me you're worth my time, or I’m kicking you out.”

_No pressure._

Mike knee-walked to the edge of the bed.  Holding onto Harvey's hips for balance, he bent down and mouthed his cock through his briefs, feeling him twitch and harden.  Harvey’s hands landed on his head, and Mike’s heart felt like it turned over in his chest.

“What are you waiting for?” asked Harvey, dismissive and amused.  “Take it out and play with it.”

This was all the encouragement Mike needed.  He slid to the floor, onto his knees, pushing down the front of Harvey’s briefs to release (the kraken) his cock, and taking a moment to admire its blood-dark perfection.  Insistent pressure on the back of his head put him in motion.  He dove all the way to the base, and licked a long, slow stripe up the underside. 

“Let’s see how much you can take,” murmured Harvey, and held the head to Mike’s mouth, rubbing it against his lips.  Mike enveloped him eagerly, sucking and tasting him.  He took his impressive length down his throat in increments, pulling off to swirl his tongue around the shaft and catch a breath, before going down for more. 

“All this talent,” Harvey murmured, cradling Mike’s head, “right down the hall from me, and I never realized.”

When he shoved Mike down that last half inch, Mike moaned around him, and started jacking himself off furiously.

In a strained voice, Harvey warned, “Stop touching yourself, or fun time is over.”

Mike doubted that even Harvey had the self-control to deny himself at this point, but he didn't want to risk it.  He let go of himself.

"Play with my balls," Harvey ordered.  He pulled out halfway, unstoppering Mike's throat enough for him to grab a frantic breath, and then plugged him up again.

Mike worked Harvey's briefs down to his knees, grabbed for his balls, and rolled them gently, while he swallowed and swallowed around Harvey's cock.  He grew light-headed from lack of air, and maybe Harvey saw it, and maybe he didn't, but he yanked roughly on his hair, signaling that he should stop. 

He spit Harvey out, coughing.  A string of drool which connected them stretched and snapped, to hang wetly down his chin.  He stared up at Harvey, chest heaving.  Harvey swiped his thumb across Mike's chin.  His eyes were dark, his expression darker.

"Get on the bed.  I want you on your knees.  Grab the headboard.  Knees wider apart.  Good.  Stay just like that.  Face forward.  Don't.  Move."

Mike listened intently to the sounds of Harvey preparing himself -- the crinkle of a condom wrapper, the slick, liquid smack of lube on latex.  He had just enough time to realize that Harvey did not intend to loosen him up first, when he felt the insistent prod of his cock head at his entrance.

"Ah, god," Mike gasped as Harvey began a slow, steady push into his body. 

Harvey stroked Mike's back in a gesture probably meant to soothe, even as he forced his way in.  "You know you love it," he whispered, and gnawed Mike's shoulder. 

 _Love you,_ Mike corrected inside his head.

"Just … "  Harvey gave an extra hard shove.  "Relax."

Mike's knuckles turned white where he gripped the headboard.  It hurt, but Harvey was right, damn him.  He did love it.  He felt Harvey's groin press to his bottom, and moaned at the feel of his huge cock splitting him open, picturing it inside him, creating space where none had existed seconds earlier.  Harvey's fingertips dug into his hips.  He nibbled Mike's earlobe, and whispered, warm breath tickling his fine hairs, "You took that so well."

Any praise from Harvey was like the headiest liquor, blazing through Mike's nerve endings.  He gulped air and stretched his arms more widely, so he could bend lower."

"My god, look at you."  Harvey pulled halfway out, and shoved back in.  "You'd do just about anything for me, wouldn't you?"

Mike wanted to deny it, but he couldn't.  "Do you ... even have to ... ask?"  He got the words out in short, pained gasps.

Harvey held still for a full minute, playing with Mike's hair, and reaching underneath him to tweak a nipple.  "You," he breathed, "have got to have the tightest ass ever."  He stroked out and in and stopped again.  "The way you're gripping me is just …"  Instead of completing the sentence, he licked behind Mike's ear, and kissed wetly down his neck.  "You ready?  I intend to give you the fucking you deserve."

Did Harvey mean that as a reward, or a punishment?  Mike had no idea.  All he could do was hold on tight and take it.  At least his body had accepted the intrusion by now.  Harvey began a slow, steady rhythm, gradually gaining momentum.  He slapped one hand to the wall above Mike's, and braced the other on his shoulder.  The muscles and tendons in Mike's arms stood out as he struggled to maintain position.

Neither spoke for long minutes.  They worked in perfect unison, rocking together.  Every time Harvey changed pace, speeding up or slowing down, Mike was right there with him, like a dance partner tuned into the subtlest of cues.  Hot, aching pleasure built, and built, until Mike was desperate to touch himself, or for Harvey to touch him.

"Harvey," he choked out on a half-sob.

"Not yet," came the murmured reply.  "We're going to make this last."

"Fuck.  Ohgod."

"Shh." 

As if to drive the point home, Harvey slowed again, slamming in with rough, powerful strokes that Mike could feel all the way to the back of his teeth.  Mike wiped his face on his arm and sucked air.  Figuring his best course was to just allow Harvey to orchestrate things to his own satisfaction, Mike relaxed his body and shut his eyes, letting Harvey go at him for as long as he liked.

All that escaped Mike's mouth for a time was the occasional grunt or low curse following an especially jarring thrust.  He guessed that Harvey was getting close when he sped up, treating Mike to such a punishing pounding that he knew he'd be walking funny tomorrow.

"All right," panted Harvey, "get yourself off.  Make it quick."

"Thank god."  Mike pried one hand from the metal bar and wrapped it around his cock.  He jacked himself frantically, whining with the effort. 

Meanwhile, Harvey went at him just as furiously.  Mike imagined what that would look like, if he could leave his body to stroll around the room and take a peek.  From the snarling sounds Harvey was making, his face was probably contorted into a counterfeit of anger.  Picturing that all too familiar expression pushed Mike over the edge, and he came with an inarticulate shout.

Surprising him, Harvey grabbed Mike's wrist, and bent his arm behind his back as he drove into him a dozen more times, and came growling and cursing against his shoulder.  He collapsed on top of Mike, and straightened his arm, smoothing a hand down it as he made low, satisfied noises against his damp back.  When he snaked his arm around Mike's middle and held him tight, while his cock twitched inside of him, Mike permitted himself to fantasize, for just a minute or two, that Harvey felt about him the same way he felt about Harvey.

Then Harvey pulled out and flopped over onto his back, hands moving in a practiced motion to remove the condom, tie it off, and drop it in the wastebasket.  "I suppose," he said in a voice already thick with sleep, "that was almost worth letting you in here."  He rolled onto his side, away from Mike, commandeering three of the four pillows.  "Turn out the lights.  And make sure you're out of here before I wake up.  I'm sleeping in."

Mike got up to use the bathroom, cleaning himself up while he was in there.  He thought about trying to mop up the wet spot he'd left on Harvey's sheets, but he could already hear snores coming from Harvey's side of the bed, and decided he didn't want to risk waking him up.  He turned out the bedroom light and crept around the bed, whacking his shin hard enough that he had to bite down on the side of his palm to keep from yelling out loud. 

He avoided the wet spot by staying on the far side of the bed, hugging the edge.  He would have preferred rolling over and adhering himself to Harvey's back, but guessed that Harvey would object if he woke and discovered him that way.  With a bit of forceful tugging, he at least managed to snare a corner of the blankets for himself. 

******

Harvey climbed on top of Mike in the middle of the night and sleep-fucked him while Mike winced and endured it.  His ass was already sore after their first go-round.  They were face-to-face this time, but it was too dark for Mike to enjoy the close-up view of Harvey's face.  Mostly he dwelt on what a promising sign this was, having Harvey come back for more, almost as if he couldn't get enough of him.  Almost as if …

Harvey finished with a shudder and a low grunt, pulled out without ceremony, stumbled to the bathroom like a sleepwalker, and shut the door behind him.  Alone, Mike rapidly jerked himself to completion, coming into a wad of tissues.  By the time Harvey returned, Mike had adopted what he hoped would be mistaken for a casual pose, head propped on one hand, blankets to his waist.

Dropping heavily next to him, Harvey reclaimed most of the blankets and fell back to sleep.

******

Deciding he would press his luck, Mike left his duffel bag at Harvey's place when he took off for work.  The way his ass was feeling, he was just as happy not to be riding his bike today, and managed to flag down a cab half a block from Harvey's building.

He spent the morning engrossed in the stack of files he found on his desk.  Trying to play it cool, he stayed away from Harvey's office until he was summoned via a call from Donna.  As he walked through the door (doing his best not to limp), his mouth kept curving into a goofy smile, despite his brain's stern commands to _knock that shit off_.

Harvey glanced up.  "What the hell is wrong with your …"  He waved a hand in the air between them.  "Your face?"

"Oh, nothing much I can think of."  He waggled his eyebrows at Harvey, who scowled back at him.  "I just got laid last night."  Lowering his voice, he added, "And it was awesome."

"This is not the place," replied Harvey in a stern voice.

Undeterred, Mike jerked a thumb behind himself, toward the hallway.  "It could be, if you'd lose the assistant."

"The only thing I want to hear from you is that you're done with the Fulson briefs, and you filed the patent application I gave you Friday afternoon."

Deflated, but not defeated, Mike whipped out a piece of paper from the file folder he'd brought with him.  "Here is the confirmation for the application.  And I finished the Fulson briefs an hour ago."

"Don't look too smug.  There is a revised set of briefs coming off the printer as we speak.  Better cancel your dinner plans."

"I didn't have any – "

"I don't care.  Go.  Proof."

******

After all of these months with Mike as his associate, Harvey still hadn't fully grasped the extent of Mike's abilities, and had overestimated how long it would take him to proof the revised Fulson briefs.  At six forty-five, Mike poked his head into Harvey's office.  "You heading out soon?"

"Fairly soon.  Why?"

"I finished with the revisions, and I thought I could maybe get a ride back to your place with you."

"My place?"  Harvey lowered his voice, even though Donna had already left for the day.  "Didn't I make myself clear last night?"

"Sure.  I just thought – "

"You just thought I would be so bowled over by your performance that I'd beg for you to move in and stay forever?"

"Um.  No.  Of course not.  Not forever.  But I thought maybe you'd let me stay until my apartment is habitable again.  You know, like a person?"

“No.”

“Please?”

“Nope.” 

God, Harvey could be so hard-headed!  “Then what about a ride, at least?  I left my things at your place.”

Harvey directed a glare at him that was half-annoyed and half-suspicious, but maybe he saw something in Mike’s pleading eyes that made him relent, if only slightly.  “Fine.  Meet me at the elevators in ten minutes.”

Mike grabbed his coat and was at the elevators in three minutes.  No way was he letting Harvey get out of the building without him.  As far as the night ahead, he wasn’t yet ready to admit defeat.  By the time Harvey sauntered out to join him, he had come up with a plan.

“Hear me out,” he said, as the doors slid closed.

Harvey groaned, but there was no one else in the elevator, so short of stuffing his fingers in his ears, there wasn’t much he could do but listen.  Mike figured he had less than a minute to make his case.

“Pick your favorite porno,” he said.

"What makes you think I own porn?"  He narrowed his eyes at Mike.  "You snooped."

Mike didn't bother denying it.  "Pick anything from your extensive collection, and I'll recreate your favorite part for you, no matter how painful or humiliating."

Harvey’s expression was incredulous.  “Anything?”

“Anything.”

“That’s a risky offer.”

“Yes, but I have veto power, in which case I go find a hotel to spend the night.”  The look on Harvey’s face now was one of dawning mischief.  “Think of it as an opportunity.  Short of killing me or defecating in my mouth, there’s not much I won’t agree to.”

Harvey kept his speculative gaze on Mike’s face until the elevator doors opened.  He exited at speed, tossing over his shoulder, “I accept your challenge.”

Mike hadn’t meant it as a challenge, so much as an enticement, but he didn’t bother attempting to explain those subtleties to Harvey.  He kept his mouth shut, and followed at his heels.

When they were seated side by side inside Harvey’s town car, Harvey added, not looking up from his phone screen, “You may wish you’d opted for a hotel room.”

******

"This one?" asked Mike, trying not to appear as surprised as he was.

"That one.  Queue it up or get out."

 _Cum Shot Twinks_ featured a cover picture of a narrow-chested young man surrounded by a quartet of beefy guys in police uniforms with their beefy cocks in their hands.

Smothering a sigh, Mike slipped the DVD into Harvey's player and rejoined him on the bed.  "For the record, I am not a twink."

"Keep telling yourself that."

The cinematic classic opened with the nervous young man from the cover sitting in what looked like a police interview room.  The four beefy cops stampeded in, berating him, and demanding that he confess immediately.  One thing led rapidly to another, as it does, and before you could say, "Miranda Rights," everyone was naked, and the twink, wrists cuffed behind his back, was on his knees and being face fucked by one cock after the other.

Mike glanced at Harvey out of the corner of his eye, to find his gaze glued avidly to the screen while he stroked himself underneath the covers.

"Riveting stuff," Mike commented.  He enjoyed porn as much as the next red-blooded male, but at the same time, most of it depressed him.  Too often, all the actors appeared so detached emotionally.

"Wait," said Harvey.  "Here comes the best part."

The cops had their cocks in their hands, stroking enthusiastically.  The twink tipped his head back, and with eyes closed and tongue out, he was splattered in cum from every direction.

Harvey hit pause, leaving a close-up of the twink's dripping face on the screen.  "There's more, but it’s mostly variations on that theme."  He rolled onto his side, eying Mike.  "What do you think?  You up for it?"

"For what?  Unless you have four fake cops hidden in your closet, I don't see how we can recreate that."

"It's not about the uniforms."  Harvey smirked.  "Well, maybe a little.  You're perfect for the part of the criminal twink."

"Criminal, maybe."  He meant to be self-deprecating, but it wounded him more than he would admit to discover that Harvey thought of him that way.  He wanted to be allowed to stay, and arguing was not the way to achieve that, but even he had his limits.  "To be clear, it will just be you and me, correct?"

"I know a place," said Harvey, "where we could make the entire scenario a reality."

"You know a place.  Wow."

"But for tonight, you'll have to make do with me alone."

This was all Mike had ever wanted.  He nodded his agreement, and hid his relief.  "So how do you want me?  Are you going to … oh."

Harvey had produced a pair of handcuffs, which dangled from one finger.  "Grab a couple of towels from the bathroom and spread them on the floor, there."  He pointed at a spot a couple of feet from the bed.

Mike got the towels, spread them out to protect Harvey's expensive hardwood floor, stripped out of his briefs, and knelt.

"Touch yourself," said Harvey.  "Get yourself hard.  Don't come, though."

It took less than a minute of attention for Mike's cock to plump and harden.  He stopped, and looked up to Harvey for guidance.

"Nice."  Already naked, he stepped behind Mike and squatted down.  "Give me your wrists." 

The handcuffs clicked around Mike's wrists, cold and heavy, putting a slight strain on his arm sockets and shoulder blades, and seeming to raise his body temperature by several degrees.

Pushing to his feet, and moving to stand in front of Mike, Harvey held Mike's head between his hands, and positioned him with his mouth near the tip of his cock.  "Lick it," he ordered.  "Get me nice and wet."

Mike's swiped his tongue over the head, licking into the slit, and getting a burst of salty, musky flavor.  He dipped his head, and licked up the underside from base to tip, and then repeated the process up one side, and the other.  He finished by tilting his head and lapping his way up the length again, and snaking his tongue to reach every available millimeter. 

"That's good.  That's enough."

Mike drew back, licking his lips.

"I think you can guess what happens next," said Harvey.

"You interrogate me?  I swear, officer, I'm innocent."

"I have cause to believe otherwise.  And that is 'Detective' to you."

Mike started to laugh, because of course Harvey would give himself a promotion.  His laugh was cut off when Harvey grabbed him by his hair and crammed his cock down his throat.  He fucked Mike's mouth for half a minute, pulled out to slap his cock against Mike's face, and then slammed in again.

Tears squeezed out of the corners of Mike's eyes.  Harvey's bruising thrusts battered the back of his throat, and Mike's scalp burned from how hard Harvey pulled his hair.  He was so turned on by it all, so hard and desperate to touch himself, but even if Harvey had allowed it, the cuffs still trapped his hands behind his back.  He had no idea how long it went on – five minutes? Ten? -- but finally Harvey withdrew.  He kept one hand on Mike's head, and used the other to jack himself off.

"Close your eyes," he ordered.

Mike did so, and seconds later hot cum splatted against his face and dripped down his neck to his chest.  Harvey smeared his cock through the mess, pinched Mike's jaw to force his mouth open, and wiped his cock across his lips and tongue.

"Open your eyes."

Mike looked up at him.  Harvey was breathing hard, expression intense and angry.

"I want to slap you," Harvey growled.

"Excuse me?"

"Give me your permission."

"I … what?"

"I want to slap your face, and I would like your permission first.  Which words do you not understand?"

"It's not the words, it's the combination and order you put them in."

Harvey stepped back, shaking his head.  "Never mind, you've killed the mood."  He strode into the bathroom, leaving Mike where he was.

"That was …" he muttered to himself.  Harvey wanted to slap him?  He wanted to hurt him?  He hadn't seen that coming.  Maybe he should have let him, just this once.  Maybe Mike would have liked it too.  He had liked the hair-pulling, and the cock slapping.

When Harvey returned, Mike started talking immediately.  "It would be okay.  I mean, I give you my permission, if that's what you're into.  Just to see what it's like."

Harvey shook his head, appearing annoyed.  He bent down behind Mike to remove the cuffs.  "Go get yourself cleaned up."

"I'm just saying, let's bookmark that for later."  He was still achingly hard, and gestured at his cock.  "So … Guess I'll go take care of this?"

"No.  I have a better idea.  First, go clean that jizz off of your face.  Leave those towels on the floor."

When Mike got back, Harvey pointed at the television.  "Pick something from my collection that appeals to you.  Jack yourself off, and I'll watch."

Mike shrugged.  "Sure.  Sounds like a plan."  When he approached the television, his gaze was immediately drawn to the cover picture he had noticed before, of the cock with the Prince Albert piercing.  He picked it up, but put it back.

"Wait," said Harvey.  "What was that one?  Let me see."

Mike lifted it again and it so that Harvey could see the cover.  _Release the Cocken._

"Interesting.  You like the way that looks?"

Mike blushed, and frowned, annoyed at his own reaction.  "No.  I just … shit, that's gotta hurt."

"Probably."  Harvey stared at him, and then his mouth curved into a smile.  "I bet you'd look good with one of those."

Mike gave a weak laugh.  "Uh, no thanks."

"Why not?"

"Just not my thing."

"Maybe it's my thing."

Mike stared down at the DVD.  It had been at the top of Harvey's collection.  He must like the look, Mike realized, and he decided that some backtracking was in order.  "I'm not saying I'd rule it out.  Because, yeah, that's kind of hot."

"Well, put it in.  Hand me the remote."

Mike did as he'd asked, and knelt back down on the towels while Harvey queued up the disc, skipping ahead to a scene about halfway through.  Harvey moved from the bed to the chair, where he could easily watch both Mike and the television.

"Go on," Harvey urged.  "Eyes on the screen."

Mike palmed himself, and watched as a lithe young man crawled across a tiled floor.  A close-up revealed him to be the model for the cover photo.  His cock bobbed, thick and erect, with the segment ring piercing at the tip.  A thin silver chain had been attached to the ring.  The camera zoomed out to show a tall, muscular man holding the end of the silver leash, leading the other man through his paces.

Mike groaned and stroked faster. 

"Don't come too quickly," Harvey murmured.  "I think you’ll like this next part."

The large man stepped up behind the leashed one, keeping the chain taut.  He produced what looked like a riding crop and slashed it downwards, again and again, making the smaller man whimper and beg.  _"Please.  I'm sorry.  I'll never do it again."_   And on and on, as the crop left red welts on his skinny ass.

Despite Harvey's instruction not to come too fast, Mike couldn't help himself.  He grunted and whined and spilled over his hand and onto his thighs.

When he was finished, he gave Harvey a sheepish look.  "Sorry.  That was just so …" 

"Yes, it was.  Just so."  Harvey paused the movie.  "Clean up your mess.  I suppose you've earned yourself another night here."

 

******

 

Unlike the previous night, Harvey was still awake when Mike got back from the bathroom.  The television was turned off and back behind it's concealing door.  Mike crawled into bed, wishing Harvey would invite him closer.

"You liked that, didn't you?" asked Harvey.

"Um.  So that's what you're into?"  Mike wasn't, at least he didn't think so, but he didn't want to admit to anything that would discourage Harvey from asking him back.

"I like variety.  Depends what I'm in the mood for."  He eyed Mike, gaze speculative.  "You'd look good like that."

"Like …"  _Like what, exactly?_

Harvey peeled back the covers and reached over to heft Mike's limp cock in his hand, rubbing his thumb over the head.  "With a piercing like that."  He rubbed some more, making Mike's cock twitch, and then let him go.  "You should get one."  He spoke in an offhand tone of voice, as if telling Mike he should watch the newest superhero movie, or check out a restaurant he'd never been to.

"What?  Yeah, right."  Mike let out a scoffing laugh.  "Because that's what all of the top Harvard lawyers are doing these days."

"They might be, for all we know."  Harvey rolled onto his side and turned out the light.  "I'm serious.  I want you to get one.  Consider it an order."

"Are you nuts?  You can't order me to do something like that."

Harvey was quiet for a few minutes.  He turned his head to look at Mike.  "Don't forget to take your things with you when you leave in the morning."

And there it was:  a clear dismissal.  "Is this because I won't get my dick pierced?"

A low snort from Harvey.  "This is because you've already overstayed your welcome by two nights."

"But – "

"No.  Go to sleep."

Mike made an inarticulate noise of frustration, but turned his back and did his best to do as Harvey had ordered.

******

Again, Harvey half-woke to sleep-fuck Mike.  This time he rolled on top of him and took him from behind.  As he emptied himself into the condom he had somehow managed to put on in his sleep, Mike turned his head and whispered, "You can slap me if you want."

He wasn't sure if Harvey heard him, but he didn't answer, and he didn't slap him.  After he tossed the condom in the trash, however, he rolled against Mike and grasped his cock, stroking sloppily.  Before Mike came, Harvey dozed off again, still holding Mike.  This felt like progress, so Mike let him sleep, and if he hadn't gotten off again, who was keeping score anyway?

******

The painters were done with Mike's apartment, and the fumes had presumably dissipated sufficiently, so the next night Mike went home, albeit reluctantly.

At work, they got busy with cases that had both Harvey and Mike working late hours.  All of Mike's hints, subtle and not so subtle, that they spend another night together, fell on deaf ears.  They'd had their fun, and it seemed that was it.  End of story. 

Scottie waltzed into town, and waltzed out again, and Mike was ninety-nine percent certain Harvey had fucked her while she was around.  Hot jealousy clawed at his insides.  He needed a way to convince Harvey he was worthy of another night with him.

So he made a desperate decision.

******

Mike's new piercing oozed blood and pus all weekend.  By Monday morning, the blood had stopped, and the pus had crusted over.  All of this was considered normal, according to the aftercare instruction sheet the tattoo parlor had given him.  His dick remained sore and tender, but after half a dozen ice packs, the swelling had gone down.  He figured he could make it through the day okay, which was fortunate, because they were still swamped.

Before he dressed, he took a few minutes to admire himself in the mirror.  He'd opted for a 10-gauge stainless steel segment ring.  He intended to swap it out for something a little flashier when he'd healed completely, maybe something in titanium, with little flames etched into it.

Riding his bike to work was out of the question, so he splurged on a cab.  He was dying to give Harvey a peek, to show him how far he was willing to go to please him, but Harvey had him combing through a mile-high stack of expense reports, and they barely saw each other all day. 

Mike was on his way back from the coffee room with his fifth Red Bull when he saw Donna with her coat and purse, getting on the elevator.  He detoured past Harvey's office, and found him still hunched over his computer, typing away.

Harvey glanced up.  "Hey.  Did you find something for me?"

"Not yet."

"Then get back to your desk until you do."

"Um."  Mike looked up and down the hallway, but saw no one else.  "I wanted to show you something."

"If it's not the smoking gun we need, then don't bother."  He glanced up again to the sight of Mike unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants, and pointedly turned his attention back to his work.  "Mike.  Stop that.  I've told you before, this is not the place."

Mike ignored him, reaching down his pants to fish his cock out.  "I know.  This will just take a second."  He displayed himself for Harvey.  Peering down, he was pleased to see that he was hardly crusty at all.  He was half-hard, as he had been almost constantly since the procedure. 

There had been no reaction yet from Harvey, and Mike realized that he’d hadn't even spared him another glance.  "Harvey.  Just a quick look.  Please?  I did it for you."

With lips pinched together, Harvey finally looked up from his computer screen.  For a couple of seconds his face held no expression at all.  Then his eyes widened, and he bit off a laugh.  "Shit.  You actually did it."

His obvious amusement hit Mike the wrong way, and he moved to tuck himself back in.

"Wait," said Harvey.  "Not so fast.  Come over here and let me look at it."

Mike stepped closer, and was gratified to see a genuine smile on Harvey's face. 

"Did it hurt?"

"Not that much.  One bad jolt.  It was sore all weekend.  I'm still taking pain relievers."

"Can I touch it?"

Mike had been carrying around a small bottle of hand sanitizer, and he took it out of his pocket and handed it to Harvey.  "Not without using this first.  I have to be careful about possible infection."

He'd almost expected Harvey to tell him to forget it, but he squeezed a blob of Purell onto his palm and scrubbed his hands together to disinfect them.  Using one finger, he touched the ring and traced it to where it disappeared inside Mike's cock.  He wrinkled his nose.  "Still a little crusty, huh?"

"Yeah.  But that shouldn't last long."

"Is it hard to pee?"

"Not really."

Harvey licked his lips.  "How long do you have to wait?"

Mike knew what he meant.  How long before he could have sex.  "A month.  Maybe a little longer."

"Can you get yourself off?  I mean, is it safe?"

"I guess so."

"Then do it.  I want to see."

Mike gaped at him.  "Here?  You keep telling me this isn't the place."

"And now I'm telling you I want to see what your dick looks like when you come with that thing in you.  I want you on your knees, and as long as you're down there ..."

"Come on, Harvey.  No."

"Why the hell not?"

Harvey looked like such a pouty child that Mike almost laughed.  "Oh, I don't know.  Maybe I don't want Jessica to walk in while I'm kneeling in front of you with my dick in my hand."

"That’s not going to happen.  Jessica went home an hour ago, and the janitorial staff won't be here for two more hours."

"You're sure we're alone?"

"Eighty-five percent sure."

Those were pretty good odds.  Not great, but good.  Still, Mike hesitated.

"Do this,” said Harvey, "and when you’re healed up, you can spend a night at my place."

With those words Harvey, master negotiator, won again.  Mike walked around the desk and slid to his knees in front of Harvey.  He jerked himself off gingerly, using careful movements, while Harvey stared avidly at his piercing and occasionally reached out to prod him with a fingertip.  When Mike was on the verge, Harvey handed him half a dozen tissues, which he came into, lips pressed together to muffle his groan.

"How does it feel," asked Harvey, "when you come?  Does it feel different?"

Mike wiped himself off and threw the tissues in Harvey's wastebasket.  "Yes.  I like it.  Except for the soreness, and the crusty discharge.  Once its fully healed, I expect it will be A plus."

"I told you so."

"Did you?"  Mike only remembered Harvey telling him to do it for him.  He let it go, though.  If this was all it took to get him back in Harvey's bed, it was so worth it.  "Did you want me to blow you now, or what?"

"I do.  You're going to have to swallow it, to avoid a mess."

"I can do that."

Harvey leaned back and looked on while Mike unbuckled his belt, unfastened his pants and unzipped him.  He pulled the waistband of Harvey's briefs down and out of the way to release his already hard cock, and sucked him into his mouth.  As Mike went through his usual routine, awareness of where they were, and the consequences of being discovered like this, added an extra level of excitement to the act.  His already spent cock began to twitch and swell again.  With his hands resting on Harvey's thighs, Mike buried his nose in his pubic hair and worked his throat around him, moaning nonstop.

He felt Harvey's thigh muscles tense under his hands, which was the only warning he had.  Harvey jerked forward, grabbing Mike's head to keep him in place, and came down his throat.  When he finally let him go, Mike yanked his head back, gasping and coughing.  "Shit," he rasped, wiping the back of his hand over his mouth. 

And Harvey?  He ruffled Mike's hair and tucked himself back into his pants.  "Stellar work, Mike.  Now put your dick away and go get me my smoking gun."

 

******

 

It was a full two months before Mike saw the inside of Harvey's condo again.  It wasn’t for lack of trying on his part.  Harvey always seemed to have an excuse – a client he needed to spend time with, or big merger or IPO to babysit.  Mike could hardly call him a liar, since more often than not the same things kept him at Pearson Hardman until late at night (if not all night).

In the meantime, he healed, and convinced himself he liked the new piercing, even if every time he caught sight of himself, he experienced a weird disconnect, as if he was looking at the appendage of a stranger.  He got used to it, and got used to the routine of keeping it clean, and taking a piss without spraying everywhere.

As the weeks wore on, Mike began to resign himself to the possibility that Harvey simply was not interested in continued what they had started.  Their working relationship remained as difficult as always, with Mike doing his darnedest to impress Harvey, and Harvey shooting him down and reminding him, at every opportunity, of his shortcomings and failings.

It wasn’t Mike’s fault if he found Harvey’s special brand of dickishness to be such a turn on.

He might have given the whole thing up as a lost cause, but he hadn't forgotten that Harvey had promised him another night at his condo.  Mike intended to collect, even if it was the last night they had together.

He waited for a Friday night.  The staff tended to clear out earlier than usual on Fridays, and Mike knew that Harvey would be more amenable to an early night because he had all weekend to catch up.

Mike needed a way to grab his attention, so at five thirty he went into one of the stalls in the men's room, took a close up shot of his piercing, and texted it to Harvey with the caption, _"all healed up and ready to play."_

Seconds later his phone rang.  It was Harvey.

Before Mike even had a chance to say hello, Harvey was speaking.  "My office.  Right goddamn now."

Mike came out of the stall and gave himself a sheepish look in the mirror.  Harvey hadn't sounded pleased.  Perhaps he had miscalculated.

******

"Mike, I never thought we'd need to have this conversation, but it turns out I was wrong.  Do you know why we don't take dick pics and send them to other people?"

Harvey definitely looked angry, but now that he thought about it, Mike was starting to get angry himself.  Instead of answering, he glared across the desk at Harvey.

"No guesses?  Then let me spell it out for you.  Your phone is not secure, and neither is mine.  People get hacked every day.  We deal with devious people constantly, some of whom might find a picture such as the one you just sent me to be just the perfect thing to spring on me to either discredit me, or in an attempt to rattle me into making a mistake."

"Oh, right.  Like that would ever happen."  He'd meant to sarcastically point out that Harvey didn't make mistakes, but Harvey, as usual, heard what he wanted to hear.

"I know that it happens, because I've used the same tactic myself.  It's how the game is played."

"Fine."  Mike made a show out of deleting the picture from his phone.  Harvey, he noticed, made no such move.  "There.  It's gone.  Aren't you going to delete it too?"

Harvey's angry gaze darted away from Mike's.  "I will.  After I save a copy on my external storage at home."

This admission gave Mike an idea.  "You know, you still owe me another night."

"What are you talking about?"

"We have a verbal agreement.  I agreed to certain … acts, here in your office."  He pointed at the floor on Harvey's side of the desk.  "Right over there, in case you've forgotten.  In exchange, you agreed to another night at your condo once I'd healed.  Well, you can clearly see that I'm healed, so it's time to pay up."

"Do you seriously believe you can manipulate me like that?"

"You can take more pictures.  As many as you like."

Harvey just stared, frozen, for thirty full seconds – Mike knew, because he counted.

"And I give you permission, in advance to slap me, if you the urge strikes.  In the throes, or whatever."

Harvey's eye's had narrowed as he continued to consider Mike.  "Video," he said finally.

"What?"

"I want to record you."

"You mean us, together?"

"No.  Just you.  If you agree, you can spend Saturday night at my place."

There was never any chance that Mike would refuse, but he still scowled, and muttered, "You already owed me a night."

"Then maybe you should have gotten it in writing."

Yeah, maybe he should have. 

******

Saturday afternoon developed into Mike's own version of a Spa Day.  He fasted, gave himself an enema, and did a bit of perfunctory manscaping.  Just before he left for Harvey's place, he stood in front of his mirror, pursed his lips in an ironic duck face, and whispered, "I'm ready for my close-up, Mr. Specter." 

His face tightened into a scowl.  Was he really doing this?  Maybe he should take his shot, tell Harvey how he felt.  If Harvey didn't reciprocate, Mike could always leave with his dignity semi-intact.  He touched himself through his jeans.  Except, he was no longer intact.  He'd pierced his goddamned penis for Harvey.  Was dignity even possible after going to those lengths?

The alternative was to give up on the idea of a future with Harvey.  He was certain of little else at the moment, except that this was what he wanted, and would do whatever it took to get there.

******

The nearer his cab approached Harvey's building, less sure Mike felt that he was doing the right thing.

It was precisely seven o'clock when he rang Harvey's buzzer and was let in.  He was light-headed from hunger, but figured he'd forget about that soon enough.

"Do I need to get something in writing," asked Mike as soon as he crossed Harvey's threshold, "to stipulate that this video of yours is never seen by anyone else?"

"There's no need," countered Harvey.  He held a tumbler full of scotch, and took a sip.  Mike could smell the fumes on his breath.  "Why would I want anyone to know about us?"

Why indeed?  Mike tried not to feel too offended by the comment, and really, if one were to spin things out to their logical conclusion, it would look awfully bad for Harvey to be caught in any type of relationship with his associate.  Making a video of it would exponentially increase the creep factor.

Not that Harvey was a creep, because Mike loved him, and fervently hoped that given enough time, Harvey would feel the same for him.

Without answering Harvey's question, Mike gestured past him.  "Bedroom?"

"Glad to see you've finally learned your place."  Harvey said it with a smirk, but it still stung.

Mike went to the bedroom and started undressing, but Harvey, standing in the doorway with his glass of scotch, stopped him.  "Save it for the camera.  We're going to start off with a nice little striptease."

"Oh.  Okay.  And after that?"

"I'll give you instructions as we go."

Harvey entered the room and placed his glass on the nightstand.  He opened up the television cabinet and set up a small camera that looked fancy, and which was probably ridiculously expensive.  "The focus is there."  Harvey indicated the area near the foot of the bed.  "Stand there, and take off your clothes.  Okay.  It's recording."

"Should I … I mean, I don't have any moves or anything."

"I don't want anything fake.  Just strip, as if you're alone."

That was not possible, not completely, but maybe that was what Harvey was looking for, the awkward, embarrassed fumbling, the buttons that wouldn't come undone right away, the shirt that caught on his ear and mussed his hair coming off, and the overbalancing and near stumble when he pried his shoes free and dragged his pants off. 

"I'm zooming in on your dick," Harvey murmured, as hushed as a golf commentator.  "Display yourself for the camera.  Let's see that pretty PA."

Mike cupped his cock in one hand, lifting it slightly.

"Pet it.  Get it hard.  Play with the ring."

Mike concentrated his attention downward, nearly forgetting about the camera for a few minutes as he coaxed himself to full hardness, and fiddled with the piercing.  Finally he gave a hesitant glance up, shifting his gaze between Harvey and the camera.

"How's that?  Is that good?  Is that what you wanted?"

Harvey made an adjustment to the camera and gestured to the bed.  "On your back."  He tossed a couple of items to Mike, which bounced onto the bed next to him – lube and a thick purple dildo.  "Get yourself nice and loose, and then fuck yourself with that."

Mike bent his knees and planted his feet on the mattress.  He uncapped the lube, but Harvey stopped him.

"Stick a pillow under your hips so I can get a better shot."

When Mike had done as he'd asked, putting himself on display for the camera, Harvey nodded his approval.  Mike tested his entrance with a lubed finger, pushing in and going deep.  He fucked in and out and added another finger.

He had his eyes closed, so Harvey startled him by settling on the edge of the bed.  "Keep going," he whispered, and reached over to work a finger in next to Mike's.  He hooked his finger and tugged.

Imagining how this would look when Harvey played it back, Mike moaned.  Four fingers opened him up now, two of his own, and two of Harvey's, and his hard cock bobbed heavily, smearing his belly with pre-come.

Harvey pulled his fingers out and handed Mike the dildo.  "See if you can get this in next to your fingers."

It wasn't that difficult.  Using his fingers to hold himself open, Mike worked the dildo in deep.

"Beautiful," murmured Harvey.  "Now take out your fingers.  Fuck yourself with the dildo."

For several minutes, the only sounds in the room were the slippery, liquid smacking of the dildo moving inside of Mike, his erratic, excited pants, and Harvey's harsh breathing from halfway across the room. 

"Open your eyes."

Their gazes met, and Mike shivered all over.  Harvey's expression was almost worshipful as he watched closely every movement of the dildo inside Mike.  "That's it."  He sipped from his glass of scotch.  "A little faster now.  Change the angle.  See if you can find your – there you go."

Mike arched his back and squealed as he found his prostate.

"See if you can make yourself come just from that."

Mike tried.  He fucked himself fast and hard until he was just … right … there, but he couldn't send himself over the edge.  He was damp with perspiration, groaning and whining as he went at himself.  "Please," he begged.  "I'm so close.  _God._   Touch me.  Please?"

The bed dipped as Harvey sat beside him again.  He tossed back the rest of his drink, set the glass down, and ran one finger up the underside of Mike's cock, catching the metal ring with his fingertip.  Tugging lightly, he rubbed his thumb at the sensitive spot just underneath the head.  "You look like a slut," he growled, slurring slightly.  "Like a needy little fuck toy.  I want to see you come all over yourself."

Then, before Mike realized what he was going to do, he cocked his free arm and slapped Mike stingingly across his face, one side and then the other.

Mike arched up and howled as he came, vision whiting out for half a minute.

When he became aware of his surroundings again, Harvey was cleaning him off.  He set down the hand towel and picked up a clean washcloth, dabbing at the corner of Mike's mouth.

"What?"  Mike's head felt weird and floaty.

"Blood."  Harvey's expression was serious and severe.  "You cut yourself on your teeth."

_When Harvey had slapped him.  Holy shit.  Harvey had slapped him, and Mike had come harder than he ever had before._

Mike didn't know what to do with that.  This revelation felt more alien than his piercing.  He'd try to make sense of it later.

Harvey set down the washcloth, staring at Mike as if his thoughts traveled a path similar to Mike's

"You gonna fuck me?" Mike asked, growing uneasy at Harvey's silence.

Harvey didn't respond, but he was already stripping out of his clothes.  He must have turned off the camera while Mike had been out of it.  "Turn over," he ordered.

Mike rolled over and rose to his knees, grabbing for the headboard without having to be told.  He could hear Harvey preparing himself, and then he was behind Mike, pressing into him, his breathing harsh in Mike's ear.  He didn't speak for a few minutes, fucking Mike hard, fingers of one hand digging into his hips, while his other hand gripped Mike's hair in a painful hold, tugging his head back.  He leaned down and dropped soft, wet kisses on Mike's neck and shoulders.

Releasing Mike's hair, he reached underneath him and found his soft cock, hooking a finger in the ring and pulling at it in rhythmic tugs.  Amazingly, Mike's cock began to swell again.  Harvey chuckled in his ear.  "I love it that you're so hot for me."

Mike's brain nearly short-circuited at the sound of the word _love_ leaving Harvey's mouth, and before he could stop himself, he was fucking into Harvey's palm and babbling, "I am.  You drive me crazy.  Love you so much.  Love you, Harvey."

Harvey froze inside of him.  Mike replayed in his mind what he'd just said, and cringed.  He wasn't going to take it back, though.  He clamped his lips together to prevent anymore foolishness from escaping, and Harvey started moving again, slamming into him harder than ever.  He came biting down on Mike's shoulder, and with an arm around his neck, cutting off his air.

Harvey's weight pinned Mike to the mattress.  Still joined together, he rolled to one side, taking Mike with him.  "Did you come again?" he panted, even as he found his cock and stroked roughly.  "Come on.  Come for me.  Show me what I do to you." 

Mike winced as he came in a weak spurt.

Harvey laughed.  "That's the best you can do?"

Mike rolled away and smirked at him.  "Twice in less than ten minutes.  Let's see you do better, old man."

Harvey pulled out and got rid of the condom.  "Be careful what you ask for."  He picked up the dildo and brandished it at Mike.  "Maybe I'll fuck you with this until … "

"Until what?"

"Until you scream and beg."  He answered Mike's smirk with one of his own.  "Oh wait … you already did both."

Mike looked away, remembering what else he'd done, and what he'd admitted.  "Harvey, what I said.  That was just … I don't know what that was."

"It's okay, Mike.  Just don't expect to hear the same back from me, and we'll do fine."  He reached for his glass, seemed to realize it was empty, and stood up.  "I don't know about you, but I could use some dinner."

"I, yes, I could.  I'm starving, actually."

Harvey pulled on a pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt.  "Then get dressed and I'll order us something.  Any preferences?"

******

They ate dinner at the kitchen counter, not talking much, except to rehash the depositions they'd taken earlier in the week. When they were done, they moved to the couch.  Harvey drank steadily through perhaps half a bottle of scotch, while Mike stuck to beer.  He'd seen Harvey drink plenty of times, but witnessing him so visibly affected by alcohol was a novel experience. 

Mike had long ago noticed how differently alcohol affected people.  His father had, on occasion, brought home a bottle of wine.  He'd sit in his recliner and drink, get quietly happy, and doze off.  His mother rarely drank, but once or twice a year she came home from a party looking rumpled, and tired, and angry.  When Trevor drank, he became reckless and aggressive, dragging Mike into one stupid scheme after another.

Harvey, Mike observed, grew quiet, eyes dark and brooding.  He wore the angry expression with which Mike was so familiar, but he suspected it was directed inward, at himself, more so than at Mike – although there was an element of that as well.  Mike had expected to spend the night, and Harvey didn't seem inclined to kick him out, but as Harvey grew more sullen, and his movements less and less graceful, Mike began to wonder if he should excuse himself and make his escape. 

Part of it was remembrance of Harvey's stinging slaps, and the way he had nearly choked him.  He didn't honestly believe Harvey would physically hurt him – not badly, anyway.  What worried Mike the most was the hurtful things Harvey might say to him, which could escalate to the point where Mike wouldn't be able to ignore it, or forgive him.

He was surprised then, when Harvey poured himself another portion of Macallan 18 and patted the spot on the couch next to him. 

Mike eyed him suspiciously, but slid over to sit closer.

"Show me your tits," said Harvey.

Mike choked on a laugh.  "Excuse me?"

"Lift up your shirt.  I'm trying to come to a decision."

"Maybe you should decide to put on a pot of coffee," Mike muttered, but he lifted his t-shirt.

Harvey set down his glass, turned so that he could put both hands on Mike at once, and pinched his nipples, working them into stiff peaks, and making Mike squirm.  "Yes," he finally said, "I can definitely see it."

"See what?" asked Mike breathlessly.

"You should get your nipples pierced.  With hoops.  Thick ones."

"No."

"You'd look good."

"I'd look like a pale loaf of bread with hardware attached."

Harvey's grin creased his face in the way that never failed to make Mike's heart beat faster.  "Not true.  You'd look like a sexy loaf of bread with hardware."

Mike rolled his eyes.  "Is that supposed to be better?"

The smile drained from Harvey's face.  "I'm completely serious.  I want you to do it."

"What for?  One reluctant fuck, every couple of months?  I'm the one who would have to live with it all day, every day, just like the first piercing."

"Well, Jesus, Mike.”  He sank back into his seat and took a long pull of scotch.  “I didn't think it was such a big deal.  What is it you want from me?"

 _I want you to love me._   "A commitment.  One night a week."

"Oh, god.  And have you mooning over me every free moment you get at work?"

"I wouldn't do that.  If you fuck me once a week, that would settle me down.  I wouldn't have to worry about concocting ways to … to … "

"Ways to what?"

"Get through your door."  _To get you to look at me as something more than just your associate.  Or your fuck toy._

Harvey looked away, now wearing the pouty expression that Mike loved almost as much as his grin.  "I can't commit to that.  But you're a good little fuck.  I’ll concede that point.  I imagine I'll want you on a semi-regular basis, and when I do, I'll call or text you if it's a good night for me."

Mike opened his mouth to argue, but Harvey pushed two fingers against his lips to keep him quiet.

"And you," continued Harvey, "are allowed to ask for permission to come over.  Just, for god's sake, be discreet about it.  No more dick pics."

"No dick pics.  Got it."  Mike struggled to hide how happy he was at this concession from Harvey.

"In return, nipples pierced ASAP.  In fact, I know a place.  I'll take you tomorrow.  I want to watch this time."

"Cool."  Mike was doing ecstatic cartwheels in his mind, not so much at the thought of having pierced nipples, but at having Harvey there with him.

"And video it."

Mike was too happy to be upset by that.  "Ha.  Too bad your memory isn't as good as mine.  I don't need to put a DVD in the player to access my spank bank."

"Oh?  And what have you got stored away in that dirty, dirty repository."

"Ah …"  Mike laughed nervously.  "Various things."

"Name one.  Amuse me."

"Well, for one thing, there is that look you get on your face, when I've done something you consider especially heinous or boneheaded.  Like your scorn for my wardrobe when I first started working for you.  Your eyes get completely inky black, and you sort of stare down your nose.  Yeah, like that."  Whether Harvey intended it or not, he was giving Mike the exact look he'd been trying to describe.

"You get off on a look?"

"Not just a look.  _The_ look.  Like you want to take me over your knee … or explain, in detail, with charts and graphs and other visual aids, what a complete and utter fuckup I am."

" _That_ gets you off?" 

"And when you put me down in front of a client, like I'm your idiot child.  Or that time you gave me to Louis."

"Louis gets you off?"

"No.  Not specifically."  Mike bit his lip, lecturing himself not to say anything more on the subject.  Predictably, he ignored his excellent advice and blundered on.  "Th-the thought that you could pass me to someone else, and order me to … to do things with them, or to them, or make me take orders from them, on your behalf."  He stared down at his hands and finished in a whisper, "That just sounds really hot."

"Huh.  Noted."  Harvey stood up, offering Mike his hand.  "Let's go to bed.  There's a few more things I'd like to do to you."

******

"Do they hurt?"  Harvey prodded one of Mike's nipple rings, and he slapped his hand away.

"Yes, for the hundredth time.  They are fucking sore.  Maybe if you'd stop playing with them …"

"But that's why I had you get them."

"Well, wait a week or two, and you can play with them all you want.  Right now, I could really use a new ice pack and another Advil."

"If I'd known you were going to be so high maintenance about this, I would have sent you home."

It really didn't hurt as much as Mike pretended.  He just loved putting that pouty look on Harvey's face.  "Tell you what, you can fuck me, face up, and touch my hoops, as long as you don't pull on them.  Deal?"

"Can I cuff your arms to the headboard?"

"Hm.  Yes."

"Can I slap you as many times as I want?"

"No blood and no bruises?"

"Deal."

It might not be love, so much as a successful negotiation, but for Mike it felt good enough.

For now.

 

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> (There is a deleted scene I might post if anyone is interested -- about 2k of "that place" Harvey knows of, and what happened there.)


	2. A Deleted Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here is the deleted scene. Harvey is still a jerk. And one of the reasons I deleted this is because I couldn't figure out how to end it. Still don't like it. It's not a happy ending, by the way, in case you're on the fence about reading it. Also, Mike has multiple partners who aren't Harvey. It's all just very bad and perhaps even borderline crack. Have I scared you off yet? Really?? Okay, fine, read away, but don't come crying to me afterwards ....

Mike couldn’t even imagine how Harvey had found this place.  It wasn’t seedy, precisely, and the lobby, at least, appeared to be kept reasonably clean.  Harvey paid a man behind a bulletproof window at the front desk, sliding a thick wad of cash into a slot which was immediately blocked again by a steel plate.   

Harvey had already explained what was going to happen, and so Mike didn’t bother listening to his terse conversation with the … concierge?  Manager?  Instead, he hovered near the door, weighing up the wisdom of bolting, against the hot curl of excitement winding its way through his guts.   

This was a controlled environment, or so Harvey had assured him.  No one would be fucking him … exactly.  All four men would be well compensated, and playing a role dictated by Harvey.  Mike’s entire body vibrated with nerves and excitement.  He watched the man at the front desk hand Harvey a key and direct him down the dim hallway.  Harvey jerked his head, indicating that Mike should join him, and after only the briefest hesitation, he got his feet moving in the right direction. 

So far, everything about this place looked utterly nondescript.  No pictures hung on the beige walls of the hallway, and the sturdy beige carpeting was of the type meant to stand up under heavy usage.  Mike’s nose twitched with the scents of disinfectant, and lemon, and stale sex.  “Sort of brothel meets Motel 6 meets …”  He trailed off as Harvey gave him a severe side-eye, but finished in a whisper, “Meets post-war Soviet apartment dwelling.” 

Harvey unlocked the door to room number four.  The smells from the hallway intensified here.  A bed hugged one wall, covered in a beige sheet.  The opposite wall had a small sink, a faux-wood cupboard, a mounted coat rack and an enormous mirror.  In the center of the room stood a round, raised platform, padded with carpeting which was more plush than they’d seen in the hallway. 

“Is that for me?” 

“It is.  Undress down to your briefs and get comfortable up there.  On your knees,” he added, as if there could be any doubt. 

When Mike hesitated, Harvey tilted his head to the side. 

“Having second thoughts?” he asked.  His tone was one of challenge, daring Mike to … what?  Change his mind?  Go through with it? 

“No,” said Mike in a choked voice.  He set to work removing his t-shirt and jeans.  They’d stopped off at Harvey’s place first, allowing Mike to change, although Harvey still wore his suit and tie, which … _fuck._   Mike hung his clothes on the coat rack and kicked his shoes and socks against the wall. 

He eyed the platform, considered placing paper towels under his knees, but decided that all of the industrial cleaner he was smelling had to be doing some good.  He took his spot on his knees, imagining what was about to happen. 

“Face the mirror,” Harvey instructed. 

Mike adjusted his position, but avoided looking at himself.  Instead, he watched Harvey, who removed only his coat and tie, and rolled up his sleeves.  He reclined on the bed, stuffing pillows behind his back, and watched Mike through narrowed eyes.   

The seconds and minutes ticked past. 

“What’s the hold-up?” Mike asked finally. 

“I ordered the deluxe package.  That’s something one normally books well in advance.  Gil probably had to call one or two people in from their day off.” 

A heavy knock sounded.  “Showtime,” said Harvey, and got up to answer the door. 

Four men in police uniforms pushed past Harvey and into the room, although none of them actually touched Harvey, Mike noticed.  Even if he hadn’t known they were part of the scene, he would have recognized them as imposters.  He knew what an actual NYPD uniform looked like.   

“Is this the suspect?” one of them asked, addressing Harvey.  He was the same height as Harvey, and the tallest of the four newcomers.  All of them were closer to Mike’s age than Harvey’s, and evidently spent considerably more time in the gym than Mike did.   

“That’s him,” Harvey confirmed.  “Have at it, fellas.”  He resumed his prone position on the bed. 

The four “cops” surrounded Mike, glaring down at him with menacing scowls of varying authenticity, and all but blocking his view of the mirror and Harvey. 

“You,” sneered the tallest one, “are nothing but a dirty, filthy criminal.   

A lurch of guilt, an almost conditioned response in Mike by now, caused him to wince and cower convincingly. 

A second cop took up the patter.  “You know what we do to filthy, dirty boys like you?” 

“Only one thing we can do, guys.”   

Their hands went to their waists, and all four of them unfastened their uniform trousers, unzipped and pulled out their cocks.  They may not have been hired for the acting skills, but Mike suspected a ruler had been employed at the interviews.  All four cocks waving at him from the cardinal points were most definitely of porn caliber.  He licked his lips and went warm all over at the sight. 

The man directly behind him grabbed his hair and pulled his head back.  “We can be lenient.  All you have to do is show us how bad you want it.” 

Maybe they had a script they’d rehearsed, or maybe they were ad-libbing.  Whatever the case, their words faded to a blurry buzz.  The man in front of Mike presented his cock head to him, and Mike opened his mouth, inviting him in.  The thick meat slid past his lips, bumping the back of his throat, and he obligingly worked his tongue, and his throat, and groaned deep in his chest. 

He felt hands on his head, and his shoulders, touching his face, tweaking his nipples. 

”Fuck his face,” someone murmured and Mike dimly realized it was Harvey. 

His arms were held behind his back, his chin tipped up to the best angle, and the cock battered his throat. 

“Switch,” Harvey directed.  “Everybody gets a turn.”  And seconds later, “Come on his face.  Get it in his hair.” 

The four men shuffled positions around him.  A different cock slid into his mouth.  He remembered to keep his eyes closed as hot cum spattered his face and neck and clung to his hair. 

It continued, one man after another.  Mike was only faintly cognizant of how achingly hard he was.  His awareness was too filled with the thrust and heft and musky scents, holding still and taking it passively, or sucking and licking when they told him to, or when Harvey ordered him.  And it didn’t matter if it was or was not Harvey’s voice, because all of it, everything he did in that room was because of Harvey. 

By the time they’d all had a turn at him, Mike was moaning non-stop.  Despite instructions to the contrary, he would have taken himself in hand and jacked off, if his arms hadn’t been restrained.  The front of his briefs were drenched, his face sticky and wet, and his hair matted to his skull. 

Eventually, they finished with him, and for several seconds the only sound in the room was his gasping breaths and desperate moans, which he cut off abruptly when he realized his mouth was empty. 

“Clean him up,” came Harvey’s gentle command. 

They grabbed handfuls of paper towels, dampening them in the sink, and mopped up the worst of the mess.  One of the men broke character and grinned at Mike.  "You took that like a real champ," he said. 

_Thanks?_  

As they filed out of the room, Mike watched Harvey press several twenties into each of their hands – a tip for a job well done, he supposed. 

Alone, they eyed one another across the small space between them.   

"Is that what you wanted?" Mike asked, all at once feeling as exhausted as he could ever remember being. 

Harvey tilted his head to one side, brow wrinkled.  "What I wanted?  Sweetheart, this was all for you." 

_Sweetheart?_   Once, Mike would have killed to hear that word fall from Harvey's lips.  Now it only confused him.  He looked down at himself, at the ring piercings in each nipple, at Harvey's name tattooed in neat black block letters at his hipbone, and at the titanium ring piercing his cock head, peeking up over the top of his briefs.   

How could Harvey say it was all for Mike, and keep a straight face?  At work, he dressed to please Harvey.  And after work, in the precious, scarce moments which Harvey could spare for him, even when he undressed, all of the ways he'd tried to please Harvey were on display.   

Mike wasn't sure if he wanted to laugh, or to cry.  In the end, he did neither.  Instead, with a beseeching look, he once more tossed his bruised heart right at Harvey's feet.  "That's not true.  I didn't do this for me.  I only did all this to show you what you're still too blind to see.  I love you.  So much … "  He trailed off. 

Harvey glared back at him, perplexed, offended, angry.  "Love?  Jesus.  You can kneel there with four strangers' jizz drying in your hair and say that to me?"  He shook his head, as if he couldn't believe that someone as idiotic as Mike actually existed in the same world as he did.  "People accuse me of having a twisted view of love, but you take the prize."  He shook his head, lips pinched together.  "Get dressed."  He shrugged into his suit jacket.  "I'll wait for you outside." 

"Wait!  Just wait.  Let's rewind.  Forget I ever said … what I said.  It's okay.  I don't need for you to feel the same way.  I'll just keep being whatever you want me to be.  Just don't … "  _Don't leave.  Don't hate me.  Don't act like you didn't enjoy it too._  

Harvey's hand was on the doorknob. 

"Harvey, please.  Stay.  I'll do anything you want.  Give you anything.  Tell me.  Tell me and I'll do it, whatever it is."   

Harvey had paused, appearing to consider, and Mike held his breath, waiting for the next humiliating instructions from Harvey.  Finally, he released the doorknob, turned around, and leaned against the door.  "You still don't get it, do you?" 

Mike's mouth opened and closed, and then he admitted, stark and confused, "I don't."  A pause.  "Will you explain it to me?" 

"Maybe I wanted to hear you tell me no, just once, but you never did." 

"Because … because you care about me?" 

"You were an amusement for the moment.  That's all.  We could have kept this up indefinitely, but you always have to push and push and push.  And just look at you now.  You're a mess.” 

Mike watched, with something approaching horror, as Harvey tossed a scatter of twenty dollar bills on the table next to the bed.  “That should get you home.” 

“Harvey.  No.  Come on.” 

“And on Monday morning, we’ll pretend as if none of this ever happened.” 

“How?”  Once again, Mike was near tears.  "I mean, look at me!  I'll wear your marks forever." 

"You should have said no." 

And what was there to say to that?   

Harvey wasn't quite finished, though.  “Just think of your paycheck, and how empty your life would be without it.”   

Harvey turned and walked out the door. 

 

  **The End**  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, I know ... sorry ....


End file.
